


affectionate

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Affection, Alcohol, Canon Asexual Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Drunken Shenanigans, Established Relationship, M/M, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28402491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: Listen, Tim was going to complain absolutely not at all when Jon got a little tipsy, got a little… nothandsy,that was too strong of a word for Jon in any situation, but… touchy-feely.ie Jon's an affectionate drunk, and really really likes Tim's pecs
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 16
Kudos: 88





	affectionate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klaxic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaxic/gifts).



“Jon.”

“Hm?”

“Wwwwhatcha doin’?”

Listen, Tim was going to complain absolutely not at all when Jon got a little tipsy, got a little… not _handsy,_ that was too strong of a word for Jon in any situation, but… touchy-feely. When he leaned a little more into Tim’s personal space, held onto him more than he would have when he was sober, which was _basically_ not at all, since Jon was a pretty ‘no PDA’ person even when it came to not even being in public. Tim respected that, he was definitely okay with whatever Jon was okay with, but _yeah,_ Jon leaning up against him like this, half draped against him, it was… it was really nice.

Nice to see Jon with his inhibitions down. Maybe alcohol wasn’t the best go-to, but they deserved a bender now and again. And by ‘bender,’ Tim meant, like, three drinks, because that was really all Jon had _had_ tonight. And still he was pressed up against him, lax and compliant against Tim’s careful hands. Not worried about _wanting_ this, needing this. Human touch and the urge for intimacy. Jon just… wasn’t good at that sort of thing, embarrassed when he initiated cuddling or giving a little huff of indignation if Tim smiled over him being affectionate. 

Jon knew how to be soft, he _did,_ and Tim knew that. It was just that he didn’t seem to be able to let himself _go,_ most of the time, so the lowered inhibitions were… really nice. 

Tim was fond, as Jon’s cheek slipped down a little from where it was resting on his shoulder. He tightened his grip around him, arm around his shoulders so he didn’t end up totally in his lap yet.

“Nothing,” Jon mumbled, and made no effort to right himself.

“Alright.” He ducked his smile into Jon’s hair. “You comfy?”

“Mm.” Another fraction of an inch lost. Jon’s forehead landed flat on his pec, and Tim rubbed against his shoulders.

“Jon. You’re so drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Your head’s on my tit, Jon.” Just, had to point that out, a bit. Not that he minded that, either. It was nice, really. Jon, _lounging,_ his head on his chest. But he couldn’t resist mentioning, just in passing and all.

“Mm.” Jon hummed, a drawn-out, contemplative noise. “Yes. It’s a nice tit.”

He hadn’t expected to be able to fluster him up, not like this, but Tim hadn’t _really_ expected him to just– reply, like that. In the affirmative. And say it like that. Not that Jon didn’t say dirty things. ‘Cock’ sounded really nice from his mouth. Or in his mouth, but that wasn’t important right now– anyway, anyway. Jon, chest, words, praise.

“Glad you like my pecs,” he replied, now grinning into Jon’s hair. 

Jon pressed a little closer, and was Tim just sort of imagining the fact that it was almost like a headbutt? A _bap._ Christ, he was like a _cat._ “They are comfy.”

“Yeah?”

Jon _slid his hand up_ Tim’s chest, smoothing his palm up along the part of his chest that he wasn’t resting against. And just kept his hand there, squeezing just ever so slightly. “Yes.”

Also not what Tim had expected. Jesus, it was nice, of course, but Jon was doing an erotic thing without probably meaning to do an erotic thing, so it was just– making him squirm, a little. Jon was putty from the drink, and he was feeling him up. So, _yeah,_ Tim was super aware of the weight of Jon’s hand and head against his chest. “Well… glad they can be of service, then.”

“Mhmm.” Jon actually slid down a little, _nuzzling_ into the curve and swell of his chest, and– dammit, Tim’s breath kind of did a thing. Just a little bit of one. But his shirt was thin and he could feel Jon’s _breath,_ warm and humid through the fabric.

Stupid, soft drunk Jon. He was going to give him a boner and he wasn’t even going to _know_ he was doing it. (Okay, that part was relatively common, but _still!)_ Stupid, soft… lovely, adorable drunk Jon… who loved tits, then. Who knew.

“Jon, you keep nuzzling me like an overgrown cat and you’re gonna get nipples. Erect nipples. And other things. Erect.”

“Oh.” Jon went quiet for a moment, and then, unmoving, “sorry.”

Yeah, sure. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m really not,” Jon agreed, laughing against his chest, and yep, that was definitely the warmth of his breath suffusing Tim’s skin. Or, or maybe it was a bit of a flush starting to crawl over him, full body and starting to grow in insistence. Heat into his skin and gut and between his legs, and it was totally fair if he upended Jon to press him into the couch and make out with him for a bit, wasn’t it? _Wasn’t_ it? 

Especially when Jon slipped his hand up _under_ Tim’s shirt, feeling out along his stomach and abs and _boobs,_ good Christ, the _tease._

“Jooon,” he complained, drawing his name into too syllables too many. No, he wasn’t drunk himself. He’d only had a little, he _swore._ But Jon may as well have had the same effect as the alcohol, really. “Please. You’re being _impossible.”_

“Hmm.”

“If you could– fuck, yeah, that’s my nipple.” He jerked at the pass of Jon’s fingers clumsy over said nipple and just, yeah, _yeah._ That was _something,_ there. This was something.

“A nice nipple,” Jon agreed, but his hand was mercifully still again, even if he was still groping at him there.

 _“Again,_ I’m really glad you like them. But, you know, _theoretically,_ if you keep doing that, I can’t promise anything. As in, being horny. As in, jerking it on the couch and the curtains aren’t even closed yet.” No noise of protest. Actually, he hadn’t moved at all. “Jon?”

Nothing. Had he just– no, of _course_ he had, because Jon fell asleep at the drop of a hat when he was drunk. _Of course_ he felt him up and got him hot and bothered and then fell asleep. And he wouldn’t even remember anything in the morning, the prat!

“Jon. You _dick,”_ Tim complained, but without really being annoyed. How could he be? The night had had nothing on the docket and, well, Jon asleep against his chest– albeit one hand still stuck up under his shirt– was… stupidly endearing.

God, he was weak for this man. In so many ways than just the one.

Tim turned his face into Jon’s hair again, planning to let him sleep for a little while longer before carrying him off to bed. But not just yet; he wouldn’t wake him up yet.

His tits did make for a nice pillow, after all. No need to disturb Jon so soon.

**Author's Note:**

> listen tim would absolutely call his own pecs tits when he's a little bit drunkies, don't @ me XD anyway, this one's for carrie! we just picture tim as nicely defined and want jon to rest his weary head on tim tiddies (timmies™ by tk) more soft comfy boys please!!


End file.
